Deep Breath Before The Plunge
by silver-etoile
Summary: Harry has unresolved issues with Malfoy and seeks him out, but he'll get more than answers. Sequel to A Time Long Past. HarryDraco slash.


**Disclaimer:** Not mine and not real.

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The lane was long, covered in a thin layer of gravel that crunched under his feet as he walked. The sky above was grey and threatened rain, but he ignored it as he continued down the lane. He wasn't exactly sure why he was there, but he couldn't deny that he wanted to be.

His cloak was long and heavy and dragged against the dusty road as he walked slowly towards the end where he knew there would be a house. He didn't know what the house would look like, but he knew who lived there. He'd known for a good six months. He just hadn't managed to get up the courage to walk down the road.

As he walked, he passed a black and white cow, which moo'd at him sadly. Ignoring it, he brushed past the cow's watching eyes and continued down the lane.

A house came into view in the distance, bordered by small trees and a pasture that spread out for miles beyond it until another wall of trees appeared. As he got closer, he could hear the babble of water close by and soon, the side of the road dropped off to reveal a creek following along it.

Pausing a minute, he stopped just beyond the drive to the house. There was no car in the driveway and he sincerely doubted that the house wasn't protected. That was precisely the reason he had Apparated in so far away. Of course, there was no way to tell how well-informed the inhabitant of the house was. If he was anything like Slughorn had been, he might have known miles ago.

Shrugging off the hood of his cloak, Harry ran a hand through his shaggy hair and stared up at the quaint French house before him. It was painted light yellow and daisies lined the garden. It was everything he'd never thought he'd see when it came to this particular person.

Standing in the front walk, Harry looked away as he heard a faint rumble of distant thunder. It wasn't raining yet, but he could feel it getting ready to. The sky was darkening and mist blurred the air.

His heart was beating harder than normal in his chest and as he looked back at the house, he wondered again why he was here.

Ever since he'd last seen Malfoy, that fateful day at the Leaky Cauldron when the sky had been much the same and he'd been wearing the same cloak, he couldn't stop thinking about what Malfoy had said.

So he'd spent the last six months contemplating whether or not to do this. He'd found the address easily. Everything was at his hands within the Ministry. He hadn't told anyone, hadn't told them why he wanted a few days off in the middle of the week. He'd just said he needed a few days leave, and since he hardly ever took days off, they were easily granted.

Now, he stood in front of Malfoy's house somewhere in the French countryside where the mist gathered on the hill crest and settled on the daisy petals in the front garden.

Harry stood for so long just staring at the house that he was startled when the front door opened and a familiar smirk greeted him. Malfoy emerged, wearing a grey turtleneck and soft black slacks, and perched his hip against the frame, crossing his arms and smirking at Harry, who jumped to say something, but Malfoy was quicker.

"Are you going to stand out in the cold all day, Potter, or do you want some tea?"

Blinking, Harry felt like an idiot for being caught.

"Malfoy," he muttered instead and Malfoy raised an eyebrow, still leaning casually against the frame and waiting for a more comprehensive answer to his question.

Finally, Malfoy sighed and rolled his eyes, stepping away from the frame and crossing his arms tighter against the cold this time. "Get inside, Potter, or go home."

He turned from the door, leaving it open and Harry hesitated. Shaking himself, though, he hurried quickly to the door and entered the house.

Inside, he was surprised to find it warm and cozy, unlike what he would have pictured as Malfoy's house. He remembered the manor from before and how cold it had seemed with its stone floors and elaborate tapestries.

This house was completely different. It wasn't small by any means, but it had a cozy quality that Harry would have pegged as almost Weasley-like, although he would never tell Malfoy that.

Malfoy wasn't in the living room when he wandered in and stood staring at the paintings on the wall, the large fire grate that was alive with dancing, flickering flames. A book sat on the table next to the sofa, a bookmark tucked neatly in the middle and glasses sitting on top of it. It all looked so domestic that Harry was sure he was hallucinating.

When Malfoy emerged from another room, a wand in his hand, he immediately stiffened, but Malfoy just scoffed.

"Relax, Potter. I'm going to curse you."

Instead, he waved his wand and a steaming pot of tea appeared on the coffee table along with cups and sugar. Harry relaxed slightly and watched Malfoy slip comfortably onto the couch next to the book and reach for a cup. When it was full, he arched an eyebrow at Harry.

"Did you come all the way out here to watch me make tea?"

Scowling slightly, Harry sat down resolutely in one of the armchairs but not getting tea just yet. Malfoy didn't say anything about it as he added a few sugar cubes to his.

Sitting back, Malfoy took a sip and nodded, satisfied, at the cup. Harry watched him with furrowed eyebrows, but quickly rearranged his expression when Malfoy glanced at him.

A silence passed for a minute until Malfoy sighed.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he asked finally.

Harry frowned and blinked. He had no real explanation for his presence there and Malfoy deserved an answer. He didn't want it to seem as though he was stalking him or something.

"I don't know," he muttered finally and carefully avoiding meeting Malfoy's eyes. Undoubtedly, he was wearing his cool mask of indifference as always.

"You don't know." Malfoy's tone was dubious and Harry could hear the skepticism. His face fell into an automatic scowl and he was reminded of why he never tried to talk to Malfoy in the first place.

"I don't know, all right?" he snapped instead, huffing almost childishly and crossing his arms. He was still wearing his cloak even though it was comfortably warm inside the house. Glancing out the window, he could see the first few drops of rain. "I thought you said it didn't rain here."

Malfoy just shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of tea. "I was wrong."

Harry glanced back sharply. He was sure that was the first time he'd ever heard Malfoy willingly, or ever, admit that he was wrong. Malfoy didn't seem to notice, though, sipping his tea, stirring it with his small spoon that clinked against the porcelain.

"Yes?" Malfoy drawled at Harry's look of surprise.

"Nothing," Harry muttered, looking away and staring at his hands instead.

Malfoy just shrugged to himself and glanced out the window as well. The tree that brushed against the window's leaves were moving with each drop of rain that hit them. The fire in the grate was still going strong, casting a flickering light over the room and a warm glow over their bodies.

Harry avoided Malfoy's eyes for a moment, but he knew he was still receiving the skeptical eyebrow and smirking lips.

Finally, he sighed and turned to the tea, pouring himself a cup and adding liberal amounts of sugar to it.

Malfoy's mouth flickered into a ghost of his former smirk as he watched. "Still intent on killing yourself I see."

Harry glanced at him for a minute and straightened up, stirring his tea instead of replying.

Finally, Malfoy sighed again. "All right, Potter. You show up at my house on the middle of a Wednesday and have no explanation of why. Am I just supposed to drink my tea like some frivolous housewife and not ask what's going on? Are you here to arrest me?"

"No." Harry scowled. "Why? Did you do something?"

Malfoy's look was enough to tell him otherwise and he just shrugged into his cup.

"Never know," he muttered instead.

Malfoy sighed boredly and set his tea down on the table. "At least when I came to see you I gave you an interesting story. If you're just going to sit there like the Tin Man, I might as well finish my book."

His hand was halfway to the book on the table when Harry groaned. Malfoy paused and waited.

"Fine," Harry muttered, feeling slightly better when Malfoy retracted his hand and picked up his tea again.

Harry was too hot in his cloak and shrugged it off to give himself more time to gather himself. He didn't exactly know what he was going to say.

Malfoy waited expectantly, pouring himself another cup of tea and clinking the spoon against the edge.

"Okay," Harry said finally, running a hand through his messy hair and sighing. "I came to see you because… because you never came back to London."

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, his expression calculating.

Harry wasn't looking at him, but staring at his hands. He felt like a failure of a Gryffindor for being so cowardly, but this wasn't exactly something he ever thought he would do growing up.

"I cam back to London," Malfoy said finally and Harry's eyes snapped to him.

"You did?"

Malfoy shrugged casually. "Of course. I have business to attend to there every so often."

"But." Harry stopped, frowning. "But you never contacted me."

"Was I supposed to?" Malfoy drawled, sipping his tea almost too casually for Harry. How could he not remember?

Harry stared. "Yes!" he said, a little too fervently and almost wished he could take it back when Malfoy arched a slender eyebrow at him. "I mean, I thought, you know, that we could get together or… something."

Malfoy's expression didn't change. "Or something? Potter, I didn't tell you all that so we could start dating like some picture-perfect couple. I told you because I had to."

Harry didn't know what to say and sort of sighed. "Okay, you had to, but didn't you want to?"

"Of course." Malfoy shrugged again and took another composed sip of tea. "I wanted to tell you long before that, back when maybe we would have had a chance."

"We don't now?"

Malfoy scoffed. "Please, Potter. You're an Auror for the Ministry of Magic, the same one who nearly killed you, nearly killed us all at one point. I'm the son of a known Death Eater. I _was_ a Death Eater. You really think there's a possibility?"

Harry shifted uneasily. Malfoy had a point, a good point. "I guess not," he admitted finally and Malfoy just nodded simply and sat back against the couch, crossing his legs and picking at invisible lint on his pants.

"Precisely. And that is why I did not look you up when I was in London."

Harry felt himself deflating slightly, but he wouldn't dare admit it. Malfoy, however, was looking at him curiously.

"But you looked me up here," he said slowly. "What were you expecting?"

Harry frowned and took the opportunity to glance out the window where a steady stream of light rain was falling now. He couldn't hear it over the crackling fireplace, though.

"I just, I dunno, wanted to see how things were going," he said lamely, sipping his tea so he wouldn't have to talk anymore.

He felt like a complete idiot for coming out there, for talking to Malfoy when it was clear that Malfoy didn't want anything to do with him outside of telling him that huge secret and then just walking away.

"No, you didn't," Malfoy said after another minute, a smirk curling his mouth as he set down his tea and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees casually. "You came to see why I hadn't come to see you."

"I already said that." Harry scowled.

"Right." Malfoy's grey eyes glittered in the firelight and he paused again.

Harry didn't like the way Malfoy seemed to be able to see right through him, reminiscent of Dumbledore, but scarier because Malfoy was seeing secrets that Harry had been trying so hard to hide for the past six months and maybe even more.

"But that's only the surface issue."

Harry looked away from him quickly, not liking the way Malfoy's eyes rested on him contently as though he knew something Harry didn't.

"So, Potter, what is it? You can start of by telling me a sickeningly sweet story about Granger and Weasley if it'll make you feel better."

Harry frowned. "I have nothing to tell," he said, standing up abruptly.

He couldn't believe he'd even come. It was stupid. He should have just let it go, let Hermione buy him that kitten she'd been insisting on, turned all his attention to it instead. But no. Harry had never been able to let go of anything, not least bombs dropped on him by former enemies.

Malfoy did nothing to stop him as Harry grabbed his cloak from the chair and set his tea down on the table.

When Harry was outside Malfoy's front door, he stopped, leaning back against it and closing his eyes.

The rain was more of a light pattering of water that dripped off the daisy petals and fell into the rushing stream.

As he stood against the door, he groaned into his hand. He didn't know how he could have been so naïve. Malfoy was not interested in anything more than what they had, which was a pretty big nothing if Harry admitted it to himself. They had a childhood rivalry, an unexpected revelation, and one kiss in the rain.

Sighing and shaking his head to himself, Harry pushed away from the door, pulling on his cloak and setting off the front porch into the rain.

He didn't look back at what sounded like a door latch behind him as he reached the end of the front path where the daisies stopped and the gravel road stretched before him. Pausing, he sighed again and tugged his hood up further.

"Potter."

A sharp voice had him stopping and turning around. Malfoy stood behind him, still in just his turtleneck and slacks. He had an unimpressed look on his face and shook his head at Harry.

"You know," he said after a minute. "Somebody used to always tell me that Slytherins were the ones who ran away from a fight, but it looks like the tables have certainly turned."

Harry didn't know what to say and stood there dumbly in the rain while Malfoy waited for him to say something, but when he didn't, he dropped his arms and sighed.

"You really have changed, Potter," he drawled, stepping closer.

Harry just stared, feeling the rain starting to soak his clothing, but his feet were glued to the ground as Malfoy took one last step towards him.

Then Malfoy's hands, half-covered by the long grey sleeves of his turtleneck, were on his neck. He could feel the soft, warm material along with Malfoy's slender hands sliding over his jaw and up his jaw bone. His head was tilted upward to Malfoy's smirking mouth.

"Malfoy," he tried to mutter, but was shushed almost immediately.

"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy murmured, pulling him forward only slightly, but he stumbled over his feet anyway, and their lips were connected.

It was warm against the cold of the rain and Harry's mouth didn't hesitate to open under Malfoy's. He let himself press forward into Malfoy's warm body, feeling the soft press of Malfoy's hands against his neck, urging him forward, coaxing his mouth open with his seeking tongue.

Malfoy slid his tongue against Harry's bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth using his teeth. His hands were still tight over Harry's neck and he didn't loosen his grip as he kissed Harry hard in the cascading rain that fell like a shower around them.

Tongues slid together and everything was warm and wet and comfortable, almost like it was meant to happen. Noses pressed together and fingers slipped on wet skin. When the lips finally parted, hot breath was panted against wet skin as they stood in the sprinkling rain.

Licking his lips, Harry let out a slow breath against Malfoy's skin and blinked slowly.

Malfoy's hands were still on Harry's jaw, but his fingers slipped on the slick skin and his turtleneck was damp from the rain now.

"That was…" Harry faltered for words. "Unexpected."

Malfoy's laugh was a puff of hot air against Harry's chin and he pulled away finally, his hands dropping from Harry's face to rake through his damp hair, pushing it away from his face.

"Thought that's what Gryffindors were supposed to be."

Harry shrugged. "Can we maybe not think like that anymore?"

Malfoy paused and then gave a jerk of his shoulders. "I suppose not."

Harry nodded, glancing at Malfoy. "So… what was that for?"

Scoffing, Malfoy crossed his arms for warmth again. "You ask too many questions, Potter."

Harry hesitated. "Call me Harry?"

A moment of silence passed between them in which Malfoy eyed Harry carefully. They were still standing in the rain and blotches of water stained Malfoy's shirt and Harry's cloak.

Finally, Malfoy shifted and dropped his arms again. "Come inside before you catch a cold," he said sharply instead, but Harry caught something in the way Malfoy glanced at him before a tiny smile crept onto his face. "Harry."

Harry didn't bother to hide his smile as he turned and followed Malfoy back into the house, shutting it against the comfortable pitter-patter of rain dripping off daisies and running into the rushing creek.

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A/N: Written for my friends birthday way back in September, so it's a late late present... :]


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